


stolen moments

by bringingglory



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Friendship, Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Pining, alcohol mostly at the end, also basically just roy simping for riza, also would be cool if these tags were in order askdhfaksjdf, anyway is this set in central or eastern?, who knows only god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25418335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bringingglory/pseuds/bringingglory
Summary: As the seasons turned to autumn, the days grew shorter and the night approached quicker, which meant it was probably for the better that she leave early, but Riza stayed because the paperwork never ended and there was no better excuse to steal a bit more time in the office after hours. After all, it would be suspicious for her to spend that much time with him otherwise.Eventually, after she had been staring at papers for so long that light and dark lines appeared in her vision when she closed her eyes, she lifted her head an inch and let her eyes stray toward the colonel.Colonel Mustang had his head resting in his hand, the other hand tilting his pen up so he could chew on the end and pen cap grazing his lower lip. He paused and looked up, eyes snagging on hers.Caught.---Or: a series of stolen moments between a soldier and her superior officer who can't be together because of anti-fraternization laws
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 12
Kudos: 104





	stolen moments

**Author's Note:**

> aka i finished binging fmab a few weeks ago and i literally have Not Stopped Thinking about Riza Hawkeye and Roy Mustang ever since
> 
> so here you go

As how many of their workdays ended, when the clock struck 1700 hours, everyone in Colonel Roy Mustang’s unit left except for two people—First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye and Colonel Roy Mustang himself. They sat at their desks continuing to read through paperwork while Mustang’s other subordinates bid each other farewell and filed out the door. 

When everyone else had gone, the room fell silent except for the occasional scratch of pen against paper when another document was signed. Sometimes it would be like that for hours, just the sun descending below the horizon and the sky turning dark in the window behind Mustang’s desk, not a word exchanged between them.

As the seasons turned to autumn, the days grew shorter and the night approached quicker, which meant it was probably for the better that she leave early, but Riza stayed because the paperwork never ended and there was no better excuse to steal a bit more time in the office after hours.

After all, it would be suspicious for her to spend that much time with him otherwise.

Eventually, after she had been staring at papers for so long that light and dark lines appeared in her vision when she closed her eyes, she lifted her head an inch and let her eyes stray toward the colonel.

Colonel Mustang had his head resting in his hand, the other hand tilting his pen up so he could chew on the end and pen cap grazing his lower lip. He paused and looked up, eyes snagging on hers.

Caught.

The pen left his mouth and the corners of his lips tugged upwards. “Working late again, Lieutenant?” He observed. “All this time in the office makes me wonder where you get the time to do other things.”

She lifted the paper she had been looking through. “These papers aren’t going to read themselves, sir.”

“You’re always working, though.” She watched as he twirled the pen around his gloved fingers. “What about your personal life? No friends outside the military to see? No hot date to get to?”

“I wouldn’t have the time, sir,” she said neutrally.

“A shame.” There was a grin in his voice. “They’re all missing out.”

Riza rolled her eyes. “Get back to work, sir.”

Mustang snorted and looked back down at his paperwork. 

They didn’t talk about all the time he spent in the office with her.

* * *

On a covert mission like this, Riza wasn’t surprised that the colonel was excited about their disguises.

General Grumman needed them to go to one of those classy high-end bars in the city to meet with someone who had information for him. Supposedly, they were looking for a young man in his mid-twenties. It would have been suspicious for Grumman himself to go, so he sent in Riza and Colonel Mustang because they were close in age to the informant and would appear to just be two people meeting an old school friend.

Despite the outrageously overpriced drinks and the fact that Riza didn’t frequent these kinds of establishments, the idea behind going to a higher-end bar meant less people there to listen in on their conversation, as well as less people going in and out to keep track of.

But of course, going to a classier bar meant they had to wear fancier attire. Which meant Mustang was _thrilled._

He showed up at the rendezvous point looking absolutely pleased with himself. With the sharp, navy-colored suit that complemented his dark hair and dark eyes, the crisp white undershirt and maroon tie, he practically sauntered over when he saw her.

“What do you think?” He asked. “Fancy enough?”

He always looked at home in suits and formal attire. Her eyes zeroed in on the point where the high-collared shirt met his neck before following the slope of his shoulders to the end. He looked sharp, put together, like he was planning to capture a few eyes and break a few hearts.

She just inclined her head slightly. “It should work.” With the directions already memorized from when they had first received the instructions, she turned and started walking up the street to where the bar was supposedly located.

“Don’t you want my opinion on your attire?” Mustang asked, sidling up beside her.

Riza had a dress on. A simple black one that rose up over her back and chest but left her arms exposed to the night autumn wind. A slit ran up her right leg to her mid thigh that allowed easy access to the gun holster strapped even higher on her leg. Her hair was still up, but was held back by a fancier clip than the one she usually used. Mustang had never seen her wear something this fancy before, and she hadn’t missed the way his face lit up impishly when he saw her.

So, no, she didn’t particularly want his opinion on her attire, because he would probably say something stupid about it.

“It would be a waste of time, sir,” said Riza. “We still have to scope out the area before our mark arrives.”

“Aw, you’re so cold, Elizabeth,” he mock whined. “And besides.” She could sense him leaning closer, close enough that she could feel his breath on the shell of her ear. “You can drop the ‘sirs.’ We’re undercover, remember?”

Riza mentally cursed herself for her slip. She wasn’t normally sloppy like that, but sometimes, on occasion, Roy Mustang could be distracting.

“Right, I apologize, Reese.” Riza picked up the pace, listening to her black heels clopping noisily against the cobblestone.

She could feel Mustang’s amusement radiating off in waves beside her, but she clamped down on her irritation and pointedly ignored him. Instead, she scanned the storefronts and counted the intersections until she was sure they had reached the correct street. 

On the other side of the road, she spotted _The Silver Giant_ printed in metal letters and posted up against the brick exterior of the bar, its glittering lights shining through the tall glass windows and drawing her eyes towards the area inside.

She turned and crossed the street knowing Mustang would be right behind her. For all he acted like a flighty arrogant bastard, she knew he took his job seriously and was just as careful as her.

As they neared the front of the bar, Mustang quickly ran forward and pulled the door open, sweeping his arm forward like he was ushering her inside.

“After you,” he grinned.

“What a gentleman,” she said wryly.

Riza walked into the bar and started scanning the area. The door closed faintly behind her as Mustang stepped inside.

She took in the dim lighting, the red-carpeted floor, and the dark wood booths lining the walls. She took note of each cluster of people sitting in those booths or mingling at the bar area, all holding crystal clear glasses and wearing jewelry that sparkled under the miniature chandelier lighting. The bar did set a certain mood.

Riza shot a glance back at the colonel and tilted her head toward the cushioned stools near the bar area before walking over to take a seat. Mustang slid onto the stool beside her shortly after.

He raised a hand to call the bartender over. “Can I get a glass of water?”

The bartender nodded and quickly filled a cup before setting it in front of Mustang. Riza watched him bring the glass up to his lips and begin surveying the bar over his drink. When his eyes inevitably caught hers, he smirked.

“Focus, Elizabeth,” he teased.

She glared at him and he chuckled softly.

Riza turned her attention away from him and tried to look around the bar as subtly as possible, but now she wished she had a drink in her hand to at least partially hide her face. Instead, she put an elbow on the table to feigned boredom as she scanned the area around her.

“Hey, blondie,” a low voice rumbled behind her. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Riza turned around to see a man around her age sitting on the other stool next to her. His brown hair was slicked back away from his handsome face and he regarded her with a smile tugging at his lips.

“No, that’s alright,” she said politely.

“Are you sure?” He tilted his head, a challenge in his vibrant blue eyes. “You’re not all by yourself here, are you?”

“She’s not,” interjected Mustang. She internally groaned. “She’s with me, actually.”

The man leaned back to regard Mustang, unimpressed. “Really? She could do better.”

Riza massaged the spot between her eyes irritably. “ _Reese._ ”

The man chuckled and moved back into his seat to look at Riza. “Well, if not a drink, how about a conversation? Are you a fan of novels?”

She straightened and felt Mustang perk up behind her.

“I’m partial to books written by G.R. Ruman,” replied Riza.

The man’s eyes twinkled at the code she had answered. He nodded to somewhere behind them. “Coincidentally, so am I. Let’s see if we can grab a booth, shall we?”

The colonel set down his glass as Riza stood and followed the man to the back of the bar. Mustang reappeared beside her, walking close enough that she could smell his cologne. God it was strong. He was wearing enough to make her feel dizzy. If they weren’t in the company of their informant, she would have scolded him for wearing so goddamn much.

The man finally slid into a booth and Riza took a seat on the opposite side. Mustang slid in next to her and folded his arms on the table.

“So, let’s talk novels,” said the man. “I’ve got shelves of them in my apartment from collecting them over the years. I know women love someone who’s well-read.” He shot a wink at her. “You know, I’ve got so many favorites, it’s hard to remember them all off the top of my head, so I always keep a list with me. And since I know we don’t have time for me to just ramble on about all of them, I’ll just give it to you.” He reached into his suit pocket and slid a small folded slip of paper across the table. “Let me know what you think of them.”

She nodded. “I will. Thank you for the recommendations.”

Riza reached out to take the paper, but his hand caught hers. She felt Mustang shift beside her, pulling on a glove and fingers ready to snap and set the man ablaze.

“Relax,” said the man, shooting an amused look at the colonel. He turned back to Riza. “I’m Elliot. Let me take you out on a real date sometime and you can tell me what you think of the novels then.” 

Before she could blink, he swiftly pressed his lips to the back of her hand. Then, he shot her one last grin before he turned and slid out of the booth.

Riza turned to watch Elliot leave the bar, listening to the door creak shut before he disappeared into the night.

Beside her, Mustang scowled.

“Cheeky asshole,” he grumbled. “He was just supposed to pass on information, not _flirt._ ”

Riza rolled her eyes. “Reese, we’re still in public.”

Mustang pouted and she had to stifle a laugh. “You could do better than that degenerate, Elizabeth.”

She snorted. “I’m sure.” She nudged him lightly. “Come on, let me out of the booth so we can start heading back.”

He shot one last pitiful look at her before he rose from the booth, already stripping off his glove and shoving it in his pocket.

Riza followed the colonel through the bar, keeping the paper Elliot had slipped her clutched tightly in her fist. She’d bring it home and keep it secure before passing it onto General Grumman in the morning. For now, she just wanted to leave the bar and get home so she could finally take these damn heels off.

Mustang, ever the gentlemen, hurried to hold the door open for her again. She almost laughed at his eagerness, but her amusement faded when a gust of cold wind rushed past, making her shiver.

Mustang shot her a look. “Elizabeth?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. I just didn’t expect it to get this cold so quickly.” She started walking briskly down the street, hoping the movement would warm her up.

“Elizabeth, wait.” He held out a hand.

She stopped and watched him curiously as he removed his outer jacket, leaving him in just the thin white undershirt and tie.

Riza blanched. “Oh no, sir, you don’t have to—”

She fell silent when he moved closer and draped his jacket around her shoulders. The fabric was thick and the warmth of it made her face flame as the smell of his cologne filled her nose. Her eyes drifted uncertainly to his as she took in the mischief dancing behind his eyes.

“I insist,” he said with a faint smile.

“Won’t you be cold?” She tried.

The smile widened. “As great as you look in a sleeveless dress, you’d look better not shivering in it. So I can assure you, I’m quite warm.

 _That_ made her warm up rather quickly. Maybe she could give the jacket back.

“Let me walk you home, Lieutenant.”

“I can protect myself, sir,” she said wryly.

“I know you can, but…” He had that look in his eye, that slightly hopeful, slightly vulnerable one. It made something inside her twist towards it, but that look was too dangerous to think about for too long.

Riza went to lift the jacket off. “That’s alright, I can walk myself.”

A hand landed on her arm. Her eyes shot to the point where their skin made contact against her will. “Keep it. It’s still cold, after all.”

“How should I give it back?”

“Just bring it in tomorrow.”

She managed to tear her eyes away to give him a flat look. “You know I can’t do that, sir.”

“Then keep it,” he grinned cheekily. “And wear it when you miss me.”

“I’m not going to do that,” she deadpanned.

He smiled at her, resigned. “I know. Still, I insist. Please take it.” He reached over and pulled the jacket tighter over her shoulders, her breath stuttering when his hand grazed her chin. When he pulled away, she shivered despite being surrounded by the warmth of his jacket.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Lieutenant.”

She let a small smile tug at her lips. “Goodnight, sir.”

She didn’t know what she would do with the jacket, but as she walked down the darkened street back to her apartment, surrounded by the smell of his cologne and stealing the warmth from the fabric, she decided that right now, at least, it didn’t matter.

* * *

“Lieutenant, can you read this over for me?” Mustang held up a document towards her while he continued to read through another one on his desk.

“Yes, sir.” She reached over to grab the end of the paper. Their hands held the opposite ends of the document, no risk of their fingers brushing.

She pulled the paper out of his hand and returned to her desk.

A few moments later, Mustang muttered, “Damn, how is there always so much paperwork?”

Havoc grunted in agreement. “I swear, I feel like I’ve read five different documents about the same damn issue.”

“If you two spent as much time reading them as you did complaining about them, you’d have a lot less paperwork on your desk,” deadpanned Riza. 

They muttered something under their breaths, but went back to working quietly.

Riza looked down at the document and resisted the urge to sigh. For all she yelled at her co-workers, even _she_ had to admit she was tired of reading an endless pile of papers. But still, she stayed focused on her work. She kept her head down at her desk and didn’t look up again. During the day, she did not let her eyes stray.

She lost herself in her work, going through document after document, paper after paper, and let the clock count down.

And then, when the clock hit 1700 hours, everyone else left and Riza and Colonel Mustang were once again left alone in the office. She managed to last another hour before the tides of a growing headache pressed against her skull so forcefully she had to stand.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mustang look up.

“Heading out?” He asked.

She didn’t look at him as she gathered her coat and her bag in her arms. As much as she didn’t want to give up what little stolen time she had with him, she hadn’t been getting enough sleep lately and she couldn’t bring herself to stay in the office any longer.

Riza pushed her chair in before nodding at him. “Yes, sir.”

“I see.” He watched her for a moment before he finally said, “Good night, Lieutenant.”

“You, too, sir. Don’t slack off without me around,” she added with a faint smile. He snorted in response. Then, she turned and walked out the door.

She made her way to the exit through the winding halls of the headquarters. Riza nodded to the secretary as she passed and pushed open the heavy wooden doors before stepping into the evening.

Just a few weeks ago, the sun would have been high in the sky, but with autumn fast approaching, the days began to shorten and the nights began to stretch. It was still light enough outside, but the sky started to darken rapidly.

Riza took one step forward when a drop of water landed on her face. She tilted her head up towards the sky, saw the gray storm clouds beginning to swirl overhead, and let out a sigh before grabbing her umbrella from her bag and opening it with her free hand. Then, she began to walk down the stairs.

As she descended the steps, the rain began to pick up. She was thankful, then, of the military boots she had to wear because there seemed to be a puddle every other step. The rain pelted harder and harder against her umbrella, splashing into the pavement hard enough to make mist rise up and fall against her cooling skin.

Damn, she really had to walk all the way back to her apartment like this, huh?

Just as she had resigned herself to walking all the way back in this horrible weather, she heard a sound—distinct footsteps splashing into puddles as they rapidly approached her from behind.

Riza snatched her gun and spun around to face the attacker, only to see Mustang on the other side. He halted and threw his hands up in surrender.

“ _Colonel,_ ” she groaned, exasperated as she returned the gun to her holster. “You can’t just run up behind me like that!”

“Sorry, Lieutenant.” The edge of his mouth quirked upward apologetically. “I saw the rain start outside so I ran because I wanted to catch you before you got too far.

“Why.” Riza asked flatly.

“I forgot my umbrella at home,” he said sheepishly. “And I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind walking me to my car? I kind of parked far away and it’d be obnoxious to walk to it in this weather.”

She sighed. “You forgot your umbrella? Aren’t you an adult?”

He laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head, embarrassed.

Riza sighed and she moved her umbrella to the side that didn’t have her bag taking up space. She raised an eyebrow at him.

Mustang’s grin broadened as he ducked under the umbrella. She started walking and he easily fell into step beside her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him reach for the handle of the umbrella. “Here, let me.”

Riza moved it slightly out of reach. “I’ve got it, sir.”

“The taller person usually carries the umbrella, Lieutenant. If I carry it, I can cover us better.”

“Taller by two inches,” she muttered. “Aren’t you worried about what people might think?”

“We always work late so most of the people we know have already gone home by now.” His eyes slid to hers, but she kept her gaze on the road in front of her. “I can hold the umbrella.”

She bit her cheek. True, the streets were empty and no one else was in sight. As far as she could see, it really was just the two of them.

“You don’t think I can protect you from the rain?” She ignored the way his eyes seemed to light up at the slightest hint of teasing in her voice. “I know water makes you useless, but there’s no need to be afraid. I am your bodyguard after all.”

His face fell comically flat. “Yes, thank you, Lieutenant,” he said wryly.

She bit her lip to hide her smile. “Sir.”

Something about his face made laughter want to bubble up inside her chest. Maybe it was the smell of the rain and the proximity of sharing an umbrella, or maybe it was the fact that she didn’t have to sacrifice any time with him after all, but she knew that with the streets empty and cleared by the rain, there were no eyes around to witness her bump Mustang’s shoulder with hers, no one to see her return his smile when he grinned at her.

They lapsed into silence as they continued to trek through the downpour. As Mustang gently steered them down the street to where he had parked his car, she didn’t miss the way he kept drifting closer. Close enough to feel the heat of his shoulder through the thick fabric of their military uniforms, close enough to smell the humid air mixing with his scent, close enough that under other circumstances it would seem suspicious.

But it made sense to be close right now. After all, Riza’s umbrella only stretched so wide. At least that was what she told herself.

When Mustang’s car came into view, she almost let out a sigh of relief.

They stopped at the driver’s side of the door and Riza patiently held the umbrella over the both of them as Mustang pulled his keys out from his pocket. He went to unlock his car when he paused.

“You left pretty early today, Lieutenant,” he said neutrally.

“I haven’t been getting enough sleep lately so I decided to leave early for once,” she explained.

“Leaving overtime early isn’t exactly leaving early,” he said, not without humor. “But since you’re tired, why don’t you let me drive you home? I made you walk me to my car, after all.”

Riza stared at him for a moment but he wasn’t looking at her. He kept his eyes trained on the car and voice carefully controlled like he was trying not to scare her away. But she knew him long enough to tell that he had been trying to lead their whole conversation up to this point.

Damn him, Roy could be so calculating like that. It reminded her of when they were younger, how cautious she had been around him when they first met, how he had eventually coaxed her into being his friend, and she quickly crushed that thought.

“I…” He looked at her expectantly. The rest of his face betrayed nothing, but his eyes were brimming with something just barely under the surface.

She couldn’t say no to him. And she was a fool for it.

“I would like that, sir.”

His eyes brightened, but he kept the rest of his face carefully neutral as he unlocked the door and crawled into his car to unlock the other side for her. Once he was inside, Riza walked over to the passenger’s side and slid into the car. He waited patiently as she shook some of the water off her umbrella into the street before fully closing the door.

Mustang started the car and pulled into the road. They fell silent as he drove, letting the sound of rain pattering against the roof of the car fill the air between them.

“You should relax more, Lieutenant,” he suddenly said. “I know there’s a lot to do, but you should do something fun before you work yourself into the ground.”

It was a testament to how long she had known him that she could hear the question hidden in those simple statements. He knew that she would pick up on them, but he also kept making those statements instead of asking her outright, giving her the choice of ignoring the question or not.

But he was Mustang, after all, so she said, “What would you suggest I do, sir?”

“Come out for a drink.” He kept his eyes focused and steady on the road. “Friday night after work? There’s a new bar downtown the rest of the unit wanted to check out. We can invite Lieutenant Catalina, too.”

A droplet of water fell against the windshield. She traced it with her eyes as it twisted down the glass, all the way to the bottom until it disappeared. “Maybe. If I’m free.”

“If you’re not working overtime again, you mean.”

Riza let out a puff of air in the most subtle form of a laugh she could manage. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him grin.

Mustang slowed to a stop as they pulled up to her apartment complex. Riza readied all her things to make a mad dash from the car to her apartment. Hand on the door, she shot a quick look back at Mustang. “Thank you for the ride, sir.”

“Anytime, Lieutenant.”

She allowed herself a quick smile. Then, she opened the door and ran out of the car umbrella first all the way up to her apartment.

* * *

The new bar was smaller than the one she and Mustang had had to go to for that one mission, but it definitely had a much warmer feel. It was filled with all kinds of people—normal adults still in their office clothes coming after work to get a drink, a group of young twenty-something-year-old girls celebrating a birthday, and other people just there to hang out with their friends.

The bar was filled to the brim with laughter and music that she could hear even from outside. Looking through the window and taking in the liveliness, she already loved the atmosphere and she had to admit, she was glad Mustang had dragged her out here. She couldn’t remember the last time she had done something for fun.

Now if only the colonel would show up.

“Didn’t we agree to meet up at 1900 hours?” Falman asked.

“The colonel said he was looking forward to ‘checking out all the beautiful women’ here,” said Havoc. “He’s probably still trying to figure out what to wear.”

Everyone laughed at that.

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” said Breda.

Riza rolled her eyes.

Rebecca grunted in disgust. “That _Mustang._ Can’t even show up on time to a get-together he set up.”

“We’ll give him a few minutes and if he isn’t here, we’ll just head inside,” said Riza.

Since they weren’t supposed to go to bars in their military uniforms, Riza and the rest of Mustang’s unit had gone home after work to get changed before meeting up again. And with this bar being a lot less fancy than the other one, she didn’t bother with the expensive black dress and instead opted to wear a black shirt and long skirt with a white jacket thrown over her shoulders. She left her hair unclipped as well.

They stood near the side of the road and chatted for a few minutes. When Mustang was nowhere to be found, they turned and headed into the bar.

They opened the door and a wall of sound hit her ears. The place was packed, but they somehow managed to claim one of the bigger booths near the bar area that was big enough to hold them all. They all slid onto the dark wood bench that curved around the wide table, Riza ending up on the end next to Rebecca.

“You know, I can’t believe I’m seeing Hawkeye outside of the office with my own two eyes,” laughed Havoc.

Rebecca whirled on her. “Riza! Don’t tell me you’re overworking yourself.” 

“She’s always working overtime with the colonel,” said Fuery. “I’m surprised she’s not sick of him by now with all the time she spends in there with him.”

“Maybe if the rest of you didn’t slack off, I wouldn’t have to stay there so late,” Riza deadpanned.

The table roared with laughter.

“Hey, Hawkeye,” called Havoc. “A little bird told me you’re good at holding your liquor.”

Her eyes shot to Rebecca.

“What?” Rebecca threw her hands up innocently. “You can’t just let me watch you do six shots then act totally fine and _not_ expect me to think you’re not human!”

Falman’s eyes widened. “ _Six shots?_ ”

“No way,” said Havoc, disbelief plain on his face. “Hawkeye. You, me, a round of shots, let’s see who can do the most before passing out.”

She tried not to smirk. “That sounds a little dangerous, Havoc. For you, I mean.”

Havoc let out a cry of offense.

“What’s dangerous for Havoc?”

Every head swiveled to see Mustang taking a seat at the other end of the bench next to Falman.

“Trying to match Hawkeye for shots,” laughed Breda.

“The weapon kind or the alcohol kind?” He smiled.

“You’re late, Colonel,” said Riza flatly.

“Sorry, I was trying to figure out what to wear.” There was that half smile again. “If I’m gonna pick up a girl tonight, I’d want to look my best.”

Riza rolled her eyes just as Havoc shot up from his seat. “I called it!” He cried triumphantly. 

Mustang shot him a withering look and Havoc shrank back into the bench. Riza chuckled. Her laugh was hidden among everyone else’s laughter at the table, but she didn’t miss the way Mustang’s eyes had shot to hers, delighted.

“Damn, you assholes are mean when you’re sober.” Havoc tried to jostle out of the booth. “Let me out, I’m getting us some drinks.”

A few minutes later, Havoc had returned with two shot glasses and a bottle of vodka that he somehow didn’t have to vastly over pay for. They all agreed that it was definitely too early in the night to get utterly smashed, so everyone else ordered much tamer drinks and chatted amongst themselves until Havoc finally decided it was time.

“Hawkeye,” he called. “You ready?”

She smirked. “Are _you?_ ”

He laughed and then poured two shots. He slid one of the glasses to Riza. Then, he held up his shot glass in a toast.

“Here’s to Hawkeye finally stepping outside of the office.” The rest of the table laughed. “Cheers.”

They clinked glasses and then Riza knocked the shot back. The vodka slid down her throat bitter and burning all the way down to her stomach.

Havoc slammed the glass down on the table and started coughing viciously. Riza slowly lowered her shot glass and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Choked on my spit—” He gasped. He took one look at her amused face and straightened. “Come on, let’s go again, Hawkeye.”

Havoc poured another two shots and held up his glass again. She clinked their glasses together before downing it.

Four shots later and everyone’s heads were swiveling back and forth between Riza and Havoc. The latter’s face had started to turn red, but his eyes stayed clear and determined to beat her. Riza, meanwhile, tried not to smile too smugly.

“Do you feel, like, _anything_ , Lieutenant?” Fuery gaped.

“I’m perfectly fine,” she replied.

“Me, too!” Havoc protested. “I’m more fine than even perfect.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Please, you look like a tomato.” 

“That wasn’t even a proper sentence, Havoc,” said Falman.

“Shut up!”

“Lieutenant, could you stand up and walk in a straight line to that wall?” Mustang asked, pointing to the wall a short distance away from their booth.

“Of course.” Riza slid out of the booth and walked to the wall with ease. And maybe because she _was_ a little smug about it and Havoc’s reaction would be hilarious, she walked backwards back to her seat.

“Damn, Catalina wasn’t lying about the six shots,” whistled Breda.

“I _told_ you!” Rebecca cried.

Riza chuckled. “Maybe we should call it here—”

“You haven’t won, yet, Hawkeye!” Havoc interrupted. “I’m still conscious!”

She smiled. “Not for long, Havoc.”

“I’ll go get you two some water.” Mustang sounded like he was barely suppressing a laugh.

They gave him a quick nod as he stood and walked toward the bar. She let herself watch him take a seat at the bar area and settle in to wait for the bartender before she turned back around to the rest of the unit and Rebecca.

Havoc scoffed. “I don’t need water! I’ll just—” He lifted the vodka bottle an inch off the table before it slipped from his fingers and clattered back onto the table with a loud _THUD_.

Falman scrambled to catch the bottle before it tipped over.

“Oops,” said Havoc.

“Fucking hell, Havoc,” muttered Falman.

“Yeah, it’s basically over for you,” said Rebecca, swirling her martini.

“You guys are the worst,” said Havoc. “I’m not even drunk! I’m just a little tipsy.”

“That’s what they all say,” said Riza.

“No, listen, let’s just do another shot. I’ll show you I’m fine.”

Two more shots later and Havoc was definitely drunk.

“Ahhh, I need a girlfriend.” Havoc pressed his face into the table and let out an excessively pitiful sigh. “I’m so _loneeely._ ”

Riza rubbed her temples. “Where’s the colonel and that water?”

She turned to look back at the bar and froze.

A woman with long brown hair in a slinky green dress had joined Mustang at the bar. She sat on the stool next to him with one arm up, leaning close to him as she rested her delicate chin in her hand. With her wavy hair swept over one shoulder, Riza could see the open back of the dress, revealing the smooth, scarless, unmarked skin of her back.

“Why am I not surprised,” muttered Falman.

“Dammit, Colonel,” moaned Havoc. “He doesn’t even _do_ anything, but he just—agh, he’s going to steal all the women in the bar!”

Riza could never wear a dress like that. Not with the tattoo on her back. Not with the scars on there from the war.

Somehow through the noise of the bar, she could hear the woman laugh at something Mustang must have said, her voice high and clear and musical like a delicate flute. She reached out a hand and brushed it along the lining of his dark coat.

He gave her an amicable smile and she grinned back at him, red lips splitting open to reveal blinding white teeth.

 _Getting use out of that suit you spent so long picking out, huh?_ Riza thought uselessly.

She shouldn’t keep staring. How many shots had she had? Her sober self would never let herself be this reckless.

And yet, she couldn’t look away, not as she watched the woman’s smile widen. From this far away, Riza couldn’t read her lips, but she could see Roy turning his head, tilting his ear towards her like she was just going to tell him an innocent little secret. The brunette leaned over, dangly gold earring sliding over her bare shoulder and brushing past the thin strap of her green dress to fall into the space between them as she pressed her pretty red lips to his cheek.

When she pulled away, there was a faint red mark on his face.

Riza turned around and downed another shot.

At eleven shots, Riza was officially the victor.

Havoc had passed out somewhere between shot nine and ten, but she had still taken another shot anyway. Everyone had applauded her for her high tolerance of alcohol and Fuery probably became a _tiny_ bit more afraid of her than usual, but it all became white noise to her as she stared at the empty vodka bottle now just sitting on the table. Had she been sober, she would have taken note of how utterly hammered Havoc was and stopped drinking. But maybe because she wasn’t as clear-headed as normal, she had taken those next few shots fast enough that she didn’t have to think about why she had done so.

“That’s my best friend!” A mildly tipsy Rebecca exclaimed. “Eleven shots and still standing. She is a _god._ ”

Riza didn’t bother hiding her grin.

It fell quickly when Mustang returned to the table at that moment with two glasses of water. He slid one towards Riza and the other toward an unconscious Havoc. “Sorry for taking so long, some people were having a birthday party and they kept the bartender trapped over there. But, uh, looks like I was a little too late.”

“Who are you kidding, Colonel?” Breda laughed. “You don’t have to lie to us. We saw you with that chick over there.”

Mustang blinked, confused. “What?”

“That brunette,” he clarified. “Did she ask you out?”

“Oh.” And then, surprisingly, suspiciously, he turned red. “That wasn’t—she was just one of the girls from the birthday party and she came over to talk to me. There wasn’t—”

“What, Mustang?” Rebecca interrupted. “You always act like such a lady-killer, but you can’t handle it when a woman actually flirts with you?”

Riza downed the glass of water and remembered not to slam it down on the table at the last second. “I’m going to get some more water.”

She shot up abruptly from her seat and nearly fell over. The world spun around her eyes, but she managed to make it over to the bar without looking like too much of a drunken mess.

Riza plopped down on the stool Mustang had been sitting in earlier and waved over the bartender. She asked for some water, and then propped her elbows up on the table as she watched him fill up a glass. With her face resting in her hand, she could feel the burning skin of her alcohol warmed face against her palm.

The bartender slid the glass over and walked away. She resisted the strong urge to hold the cold glass up to her face and instead leaned back to take a sip of water.

Her nerves buzzed vaguely under her skin as she brought the glass to her mouth, but with everything feeling like radio static, she miscalculated the distance of the rim of the glass to her mouth and missed the line of water that dribbled out of the cup and down her chin before it splashed into her lap.

Riza groaned. She grabbed her handkerchief from her jacket pocket and dabbed the wet spot on her dress.

“Never thought I’d see you do something as clumsy as spill water on yourself.”

Riza’s head shot up to see Mustang sliding into the seat next to her.

“What are you doing here, sir?” She let too much surprise slip into her voice, a testament to the alcohol finally getting to her.

“I came to make sure you were alright.” He gave her a small half-smile. “The others were too drunk to, but they wanted me to keep an eye on you.”

“I’m fine.”

“They told me you had eleven, shots.” The smile widened. “That’s impressive. Also dangerous.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated. Riza took another sip of water, careful not to spill any water on herself this time. “You can go back.”

“That’s alright, I think I like where I am right now.”

“Then, I’ll go back.” She stood up only to be stopped by a hand on her arm.

Mustang gently pulled her back into her seat. “Lieutenant...are you sure you’re alright?”

She wrenched her arm out of his grasp. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He read her like a book. “Did I do something?”

Riza, at least, had enough common sense left to tell her that that was a question she should not answer.

She tried to leave one more time, but he grabbed her arm once again and pulled her back.

He raised an eyebrow at her, eyes teasing. There was a smile on his face, maybe the same smile he had flashed at the brunette earlier.

Something hot welled up inside her chest. 

Riza grabbed his tie and yanked him forward until she was close enough to confuse him, close enough to whisper in his ear, close enough to press a pair of red lips to his cheek if she had the lipstick. But she didn’t do any of those things. Instead, she licked her thumb and swiped it aggressively across the faint lipstick mark on his cheek. She distantly felt his skin heat up under her hand, but she focused on wiping the mark off. Even when it was gone, she scrubbed at the spot one his cheek one more time before she was satisfied.

Riza released his tie and Mustang jerked backward onto his seat. She took the opportunity to escape, jumping out of her seat to hurry back towards the booth.

Or at least she tried to, but standing up that quickly made her brain swirl around inside her head and knock up against her skull. She prepared to eat shit as she stumbled over her feet, but a hand, once again, caught her.

“Careful, Hawkeye.” His breath was warm in her ear.

Riza pulled herself up and yanked her arm away, but let him follow her back to the booth.

They returned to a sober Falman—probably the only sober one left there—and a slightly less sober Breda trying to pull the unconscious Havoc out of the booth. Fuery watched anxiously from the side. When they managed to pull him out, Breda and Falman laid Havoc’s arms over their shoulders, acting like two human crutches.

“Wake up, Havoc,” sang Rebecca, lightly slapping his face.

Riza laughed at the sight.

“Oh, Colonel, Lieutenant,” said Fuery. “I, uh, think we’re gonna head back. It’s getting late and we should definitely get out of here.”

“How are we going to get him home?” Mustang nodded at Havoc.

“Falman lives around here, so we’re just going to let Havoc crash on the couch,” said Fuery.

“I see.” He turned to Rebecca. “What about you, Catalina?”

She waved a hand. “I’ll call a cab.”

Riza took a step forward. “Let me help you get Havoc out.” She took a step forward and nearly stumbled into the wall.

“No need, Hawkeye,” said Falman, smile slightly pained. “We couldn’t ask you to do that while you’re, uh, like that.”

Riza pushed herself up from the wall and snorted. “Fair enough.”

Mustang held the door open while Falman and Breda dragged Havoc out of the bar. Out in the cold air, they finally managed to get him conscious enough to walk instead of hanging like a deadweight. 

Riza and Mustang waited with Rebecca while she tried to call a cab. They watched with amusement as the other members of the unit stumbled down the street, waving as they disappeared around the corner.

When Rebecca managed to successfully hail a cab, she turned to Riza.

“Call me when you get home,” she said.

“I will,” said Riza.

Rebecca threw her arms around Riza in a quick hug before turning around and stepping into the cab. She and Mustang watched as the car disappeared down the road. And then, they were alone.

The air felt empty again without the various sounds of her drunken co-workers filling the night. Despite her burning face, it was much colder outside than in the crowded space of the bar, and she became distinctly aware of the only other heat source outside standing near her.

“Well,” she finally said. “I should head back.”

“Wait.” Mustang stopped her. “Let me drive you.”

“You shouldn’t drive if you’ve had any drinks,” she countered. “I’ll just call a cab.”

“Good thing I didn’t drink, then.”

She looked at him surprised. “You didn’t? But you called us out here to the bar.”

“I thought I might have to take care of a few of my drunken subordinates,” he smiled.

Riza rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Eleven shots, Hawkeye.”

When she glared at him, the smile on his face only spread wider.

“I’m fine,” she repeated.

He raised an eyebrow at her and then took a few steps back. “Try to walk to me in a straight line.”

She glared at him for a moment longer, eyeing the distance between their feet before she finally relented. “Fine.”

She ignored the absolutely delighted look in his eyes as he stepped closer. “Come on, I parked farther down this way.”

Riza put all her focus into not stumbling towards him like a drunkard. She usually prided herself on keeping hold of her senses when she drank, but no matter how much she thought her mind remained clear, after eleven shots, her body, clearly, was not.

She blinked rapidly to try to clear her vision. When she opened her eyes again, she saw that Mustang had offered her his elbow.

“No,” she said.

“Come on, no one’s around,” he reasoned. “And also, you’re not walking straight.”

She shot him another glare before relenting and grabbing his elbow. “What if your girlfriend sees,” she grumbled before she could stop herself.

“My what—?” Mustang froze, forcing her to stop, too. She distantly felt the alcohol run cold in her body as he slowly turned to her and said, almost gleefully, “You were jealous.”

She fought to keep her tone neutral. “Of course not, sir.”

“You were jealous,” he repeated, delight glinting in his eyes. “So, _that’s_ why you were—”

“Sir, where’s your car?” 

Roy watched her for another moment, grin so wide it was splitting his face in half. Finally, he dropped it. “Just around that corner. Don’t worry.”

Riza bit her lip, lest her mouth decided to have another outburst. Maybe her mind wasn’t so clear after all. This was why she didn’t drink that often, there was always the risk of doing something stupid like this.

“Did you have fun, tonight, at least?” Mustang asked.

Riza thought about it, then nodded. “Yes. I’m, uh, glad you invited me, sir.”

Mustang snorted. And then he said, so quietly she almost thought she imagined it, “Always the ‘sirs’ with you.”

Riza was too drunk to offer a proper response, so she just let him drag her back to the car, holding her up every time she stumbled. She ignored how warm he felt against her frozen fingertips. Her mind uselessly noted that he was wearing cologne again, and somewhere along the way, the hand she had on his elbow turned into his arm wrapping around her back to lift her up.

When they got to his car, he opened the passenger side with a flourish. He bowed but kept his head tilted up so he could watch her roll her eyes as she slid into his car.

“You’re ridiculous, sir,” she said with a smile.

He grinned back at her before he closed the door and moved back to the driver’s side. As he climbed inside, Riza leaned back into the seat, feeling the purr of the engine when he started the car and listening to the sounds of the vehicle filling the night. He pulled into the road, and it reminded her vaguely of when he had driven her home in the rain.

“It’s a shame the suit didn’t work,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t get to bring a girl home.”

She could see his mouth tilt up out of the corner of her eye. “I’m bringing you home.”

Riza was too drunk to process that. So she ignored it.

“What were you and that woman talking about?” She asked, trying to sound disinterested.

He laughed softly. “Nothing in particular. She asked what I did, if I wanted to join her friend’s birthday party, if she could buy me a drink—”

Riza bit her lip before she could say anything she would regret.

“Of course, I turned her down. She did kiss me, but I’m not so easily swayed.” Her eyes flickered to his fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “After all, there’s only one person I’m concerned about.”

She looked ahead through the windshield and watched her apartment complex come into view. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

“No,” he smiled sadly. “Of course not.”

The car rolled to a stop. Riza turned to let herself out of the car, but when she stepped out, she almost stumbled into the ground. Everything felt weird and rumbley from the car ride and her feet hadn’t been expecting non-moving ground.

“Careful, Lieutenant.” Mustang knelt down to her eye level and helped her stand back up. “Remind me in the future to never challenge you to a drinking challenge. Both for my sake and yours.”

“Noted.”

She let him help her walk up the stairs to her apartment door because with eleven shots of vodka sloshing around inside of her, she didn’t trust herself to go up them without falling. They reached her door soon enough and she supposed this was the part where she had to bid the colonel goodnight and take out her keys, but for some reason, she hesitated.

“Thank you for driving me home,” she said. “Again.”

“Of course.” God, the warmth in his voice was too much. “I apologize for making you mad.”

Her face flushed. 

(From the alcohol, she told herself, it was because of the alcohol.)

“I wasn’t mad,” she protested. “Or jealous.” She didn’t need to add that. Why did she add that?

Mustang reached over, and she was suddenly very much feeling those eleven shots of alcohol because she wasn’t pulling away, not as he laid a bare, gloveless hand against her vodka-warmed face.

“It’s okay if you were.” He said it so softly with the barest half-smile curving his lips. The face he was making at her would have been his usual smug-bastard face if it weren’t for the affection brimming in his dark eyes.

Riza fought to keep her face neutral. Even as finally she realized how drunk she was if she was acknowledging the look in his eyes. But she forced herself to stay calm, imagined that her face had turned to stone that could not and would not change even under his gaze. She would not break. Not now. Not when they had larger goals to achieve and other things to worry about.

But then, Roy brushed his thumb across the hottest part of her face, leaving a trail of fire along her skin. Damn those eleven shots. No matter how straight she kept her face, she could do nothing to stop the alcohol from flushing her face red.

“There’s no need to be jealous.” She could feel the rumble of his voice through his hand.

“I wasn’t jealous.” Her tongue floundered in her mouth. There was a beat where she couldn’t move, anchored to the ground by his dark eyes. A string was pulled taut in the inches of space between their faces, the air they shared a vacuum. And when she realized that, something jolted inside of her. 

“Sir,” she added, half a beat too late. Damn, she was really out of it.

Something shifted in his eyes. “I prefer blondes anyway.”

Her face flamed and she was sure Roy could feel it by the subtle way the corner of his mouth tugged higher.

“Colonel—”

Riza stopped short when Roy leaned closer. The shrinking space between them sucked all the air out of her lungs, and she could only stare at the empty space his face had been in a moment earlier as Roy pressed his lips to her cheek in the same spot the girl had kissed him earlier.

Her eyes widened and every last ounce of common sense inside her was frantically ringing warning bells. He was being so reckless, kissing her out in the open. _She_ was being so reckless, eleven shots into the night and still letting herself be alone with him, letting their shoulders brush, letting the careful formalities crumble pebble by pebble. All she could feel was the heat of his skin and the alcohol muddling her senses, and it made her burn hotter and hotter.

God, she was so drunk.

The part of her that was yelling at her for being so reckless wrenched control of her arm. With a Herculean effort, she lifted a hand to press against his chest and push him back. But then, his hand came up, caught hers, and laced their fingers together.

There was nothing in between their hands except the heat radiating off his palm. No ignition cloth gloves, no military sleeves brushing together, no prying eyes, just palm to palm, skin to skin.

When he finally pulled away, her mouth fell open.

“Roy.” His name slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it.

How did she get here? How did the night end like _this?_ Her heart twisted painfully because this was just a stolen moment, one they weren’t allowed to have. As his bodyguard, she had to look out for his best interests, and she should _not_ have let this happen.

His eyes bore into hers, smile apologetic. 

“Sorry,” he said. “Don’t wipe that one off, please.”

Something knocked loose inside her chest. _Let go, Riza,_ she told herself. _You have to let go_.

Instead, she sighed and squeezed his hand tighter. “I won’t.”

His face softened.

“Get some rest, Riza.”

“I will.”

His eyes still hadn’t left hers. Her attention was torn between the weight of his gaze and the heat of his palm. If she could physically squeeze his hand harder, she would have. But she couldn’t get any closer to him than this, no matter how much she wished they could.

Roy must have seen the look in her eyes because at that moment, he released her hand and let it fall back to her side limply. The heat of his skin left her, plunging her back into the cold air of the night like she had been tossed into the icy snow banks of Briggs.

She swallowed.

He reached out, one last time, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear before he finally stepped away. “Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

She nodded jerkily. “Sir.”

Every part of her body had lost feeling except for the tingling skin on her cheek in the shape of her superior officer’s lips. He gave her one last smile before he turned and walked back to his car.

In this stolen moment under the moonlight with only the stars acting as witnesses, she let herself miss the warmth of his palm, just for a moment, before she turned away from the street and headed inside.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not gonna lie, I've been lowkey editing and rereading this fic nonstop for the last few days bc I was just like in a frenzy to get this posted, so if there are any typos I apologize
> 
> but other than that, thank you so much for reading!!!
> 
> come bother me on [tumblr](https://bringingglory.tumblr.com/)!


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